Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Serpentină	By : Iced_Sygar Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Tom Views: 20915 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
~Blend~

A/N: Not much to say here. Sorry for the late update. Also, this still takes place in the beginning fourth book, the Goblet of Fire © J.K. Rowling.

For some days nothing happened, no dreams, no Tom of any kind Harry was alone. It was a little bit relieving to not have to worry about whether or not he wanted said dreams. He still didn’t like the idea of being choked dream or not... And… What was that business of being controlled?

Harry sighed as he got into bed that night, surely it hadn’t been him. It was his dream, so yes he was in control he supposed, but if Tom was a dream he shouldn’t be aware that he wasn’t acting like himself. No, he was just being... There was no way that it was really him. Harry was just really good at pretending; living in a cupboard will do that to you.

But the dream came again tonight, though the air felt much more oppressive. It made him feel a little woozy, in the dark room that was so unlike the white room. Harry sat on the old polished floor; he thought he could almost smell the musty air. It didn’t even feel like this had just been his at one time. He shivered knowing that he could not possibly be alone in here. "I--I know you’re in here..." He called, not moving from where he had landed this time.

Tom stood off to the side, arms crossed, as he focused on the boy. He was covered in shadows, standing beside an object that casted its shadow over him and covered him. There was a small fire going in the dusty old fireplace that barely lit up the dark room not too far from where the both of them stood.

It had been difficult for Voldemort to fall asleep with these kinds of small things aching his mind. Being such an independent person, something controlling him was definitely very high up on his annoyance list. He wasn't sure whether he hated it or actually began to look forward to the dreams, to where he could challenge this mysterious force that took him over. Every time he fell asleep now, he looked more forward to gaining back his freedom as well as defeating whatever it was. And, he could tell, with every dream he was winning slowly but surely. He even felt more power coming to him now this night, when he drifted asleep.

"Oh yes. It should only be me." He put, coming forward out of the shadows with a small smirk over his face. No. He'd have his way this time and that force would stay out of it tonight.

The movement in the dark caught his eye and Harry turned to get a better look at who he knew it was. Yes, the resolutely red eyes gave him away even before he saw the rest of him.

He blushed against his will. "Only be you...?" He asked, not quite understanding that he was pretty much being told that there was no escape after the first time. It was so dark and cold in here; he was surprised he could not see his breath. That fire was way too small to keep anything warm, and Harry knew better than to try and get anywhere near that bed sitting in the room. It would be better to freeze here with the mangled old furniture. Still, the light made him feel a little safer so he looked at it, rather than Tom who made him feel the opposite.

The taller boy walked over to Harry calmly, feeling a restraint still on him but it was much diminished from how it was before in the last few dreams. He had been winning, which made his mood improve much more. He walked until he was behind the Gryffindor, kneeling down and gently moving his hands to Harry's shoulders... And then to his neck, from behind. Though, he wasn't strangling him or anything at all. But there was a bit of pressure behind those fingers, as if just daring Potter to make the wrong move so that he could trigger them off.

"Aren't you glad to see me? I'm very glad to see you~" He purred a bit darkly, just touching the other boy's neck and shoulders, as if he was going to do something harmless like massage him.

The hands on his shoulders made Harry freeze, a sense of horror as they moved to his neck expecting the air going in and out of himself so easily to be halted. But nothing happened, he stayed very still. Still nothing but the rather firm caressing. The words in his ear made Harry shiver slightly, though he was unsure if it was because of the tone or because it was obvious what would happen should he answer incorrectly. He swallowed hard, choosing his words carefully, "Of course I am. I'm always happy to see you--" He almost said Tom. He didn’t want to press that right now... Later when he was less likely to be strangled.

"But I... I can’t see you when you’re behind me..." Harry said turning his head slightly. He kept becoming confused because he really did like the hands on him… But was also trying not to bolt for the door—Which he figured was locked anyways.

Voldemort smiled at the response before he gazed over, seeing the other boy try and peek back to him. The part that was trying to command and control him demanded to move his hand gently to Harry's chin, catch his eyes, kiss, turn him around... But, no. Riddle instead reached forward, gently touching that chin, and turned him away. "You don't need to see something to know it’s there." He replied quietly before he moved down onto the floor behind Harry, fitting the boy in-between his legs with his back still against Tom's front.

Leaning in, he pressed his lips to that neck he had been touching earlier, his hands snaking around Potter's waist and down along his front, getting very dangerously close to the other boy's nether regions.

Reluctantly, Harry turned his face forward as he was directed to do. "But I--Ah..." He broke off in a small whimper of surprise and something else as he was repositioned. He was aware of what was /there/ very much. Adrenaline got his heart racing, it felt so nice... But what if /it/ happened again? Harry remembered the pain between his legs and the cruel smile above him, easily led into a trap. But what could he do? If he didn’t struggle... Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as badly. It was a dream right...? He should be okay even here; no one would know he consented a little. Harry wanted to start struggling and trying to get away but all he did do was start to shake quite violently.

The lips on his neck helped a little; it wasn’t a bite at least. "W-Wait--Don’t you… Nngh..." The hands were getting so close to where he didn’t want them. Halfheartedly he tried to block himself by pressing his thighs together.

The Slytherin did not listen to the other boy nor was he put off by Potter pressing his legs together to deny him access. No matter, he could coax that out. Potter was nothing more to him than a doll and he needed to be trained to exactly where he wanted him.

"Let me touch you." He breathed against the other boy's skin. And he wasn't going to ask twice. While his hands couldn't play with the Gryffindor down below, they trailed upward and underneath Harry's clothes or shirt that he had on, up to his nipples, where he tweaked and played with them a bit roughly.

Harry shook a little when the breath hit his skin, but not with fear this time. He was contemplating how to still reply "No" and not get hurt when the hands started to go back up. At first he liked the feeling of the hands on his skin, right until they started to pinch and pull at him. "Ha--that hurts!" Harry cried pushing against Tom's torso unintentionally as he tried to escape the hands. It was another threat hidden in affection, spread your legs or you'll have worse to worry about than this.

After he calmed himself a little, the legs came apart leaving himself open and vulnerable to harassment. He was hyperventilating a little now though it might have just been because he was getting a little aroused by this.

Voldemort did not lessen his subtle attacks on the other boy until he was able to see his legs spread weakly at his command. He smiled a bit wickedly, his hands trailing down and caressing Harry. The hands moved down his front, avoided the sensitive area of the other boy's to teasingly brush past and squeeze his thighs a little. His fingers then moved to trail along his inner thighs, up until he was finally just barely brushing that sensitive area he had skipped over earlier.

"Say it." Tom purred against Harry's ear, moving to lick the shell of it with his quick tongue. "Say you want me to touch you."

He had actually begun to relax a little as the hands moved away from his chest, enjoying the painless sensation. At first, he thought Tom was going to only tease him when his hand went to a place unexpected. But the hands only got close enough to make Harry cry out in dismay. Again and again they almost touched him where he really wanted it—And—Gone again. He drew his legs in a little, as if trying to regulate where he wanted the affection. But when his crotch finally was touched it was slightly as if on accident. Harry almost didn’t hear what Tom said because the second the tongue brushed his ear, he whimpered quite loudly. But he wished he hadn’t heard, because it was beyond embarrassing. It was demeaning.

He bit his lip wanting what was offered very much. "D-Don’t be mean---!" Harry cried a little, helpless as the heat growing in him demanded more. But the hands kept touching but not where he wanted them, no matter how much he squirmed for more. "I... I..." He couldn’t form the words. He wouldn’t say it. "I wa...." Why couldn’t he just touch him already he was already moaning for it? "I want...I want..." Harry had to breathe for a moment to get enough air... "P-Please touch me, Tom." He whimpered finally after what seemed ages to Harry; he had no sense left to not say his lover’s name. Or rather, the wrong name.

Seeing the other boy react so much to how little he was touching him /there/ made Voldemort amused. It was not enough to have him whimpering or moaning out for the affection... He wanted to hear it. And Tom did scowl at hearing the other boy telling him not to be mean. Not to be mean? What was he, his mother? But, of course, even the helpless squirming and begging... Even when Harry actually did finally ask him that he wanted to be touched, the fact that he said /that/ name. The old name of his... He completely ignored Harry's growing lust now, not even slightly teasing him. Instead he worked his hands back up to his nipples, giving them even slightly rougher treatment than previously before. "What have I told you about that name?" He breathed against the boy's ear, obviously not amused now.

When the hand did not go where he wanted it to, Harry cried "No--!" Weakly to the air. He was getting sore now and his underwear was too constricting. But too late he'd already said it; the hands were going back up to his chest. It hurt more than it felt good by quite a bit and his eyes watered from the sensation. He whimpered because it hurt, not because he felt good now. Harry squirmed trying to escape the pain that he had earned by one wrong word. The voice in his ear was not playful anymore, even if Tom's version of playful was a bit sadistic, he was on dangerous grounds now. He wanted to argue, or rather, the Harry that wasn’t out of his mind with confused pleasure and pain did. "I-I'm sorry--! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to---" His voice kept breaking with the effort to talk.

"Good, good." Riddle's voice suddenly lightened up, apparently becoming amused again. "Yes, you should feel sorry for saying such a thing..." But the hands on Harry's chest immediately stopped their harsh treatment to the boy's nipples, instead moving to gently caress him. Tom moved his chin down to rest on Potter's shoulder, now touching him like a delicate animal or something that he was trying to comfort. "I don't want to hurt you, Harry. I'm sorry." This voice was a bit different than the previous. And, yes, if Harry had looked back to see the color of his eyes... They weren't red again. It seemed like the forces that restricted Voldemort were fighting again, not letting him completely have his way.

The release from the pain made Harry go a little limp against him. He wasn’t used to harsh treatment like this; he was used to being spoiled. He accepted the gentle touches like a man in the desert accepting water. Weakly, Harry said something that might have been along the lines of "Okay..." or "I know" or maybe it was just noise. The touches kept easing him out of the point of numbness; he cried out weakly for more, his eyes dull with the sexual longing that was riding him at the moment. He was a few minutes from starting to touch himself, which he had known not to do with the other Tom. Lest he want his hands pinned.

This Tom realized the other boy's need, his hands drifting downwards softly, moving to undo any buttons or zippers in his way. He began to touch the smaller boy in the way he knew Harry wanted, precisely, while kissing him gently along the neck. "It's alright... It's alright." He assured quietly, though he could feel the other force fighting him again to take back control. He managed to hide it though and tried not to let any of it through so it would hurt the boy in his grasp.

Finally, finally some sort of relief from this playing. When the hand was in position Harry closed his legs around the hand, trying to keep it in place. The kisses and touches made him rock for more; was he not in trouble anymore? He had apologized so now he got something nice, right? He cried weakly for more, now placing his hands over Tom's.

"Please... Please..." Harry was not aware that there were two Toms at the moment and he wasn’t really in a state to comprehend it anyways. Whatever made him feel best, that’s all that mattered.

The boy's legs closing in and trying to trap his hands in that little sensitive area made him smile against Harry's skin as he began to touch and fondle the Gryffindor as he so desperately wanted. The begging only edged him on, his hands in the boy's pants and stroking him. Even through this building pleasure, he could still feel the 'other' Tom fighting him, wanting to break back out.

No. He wouldn't allow that. He needed to be the Tom that Harry want-

No. I want to be the person I know I am, Lord Voldemort.

He gripped the boy a bit more roughly, though nothing painful, and stroked him with the hands of the actual Tom, wishing to claim him for his own.

The change in his handling was not missed by Harry, twitching slightly but not stopping. His breath had gone ragged from how hard he had to breathe now and soft cries breaking the silence between them. The tension kept rising inside Harry, enough to make his rocking more erratic and less in time with the hands that held him. Being unable to hold onto Tom was a bit difficult for him to handle, so he had to accept just holding onto the hands that worked him relentlessly.

"I think... I think I’m going to--" Harry gasped after a few moments more of this rough affection and he heard his voice become a high pitched cry as he climaxed. His pants were still on, so he felt the sticky webbing covering him and his upper thighs but leaving everything else neat and clean. He murmured weakly how nice he felt, laying back against the others chest forgetting the danger he was in momentarily.

Tom pulled his sticky hand back, smearing the fluid along the other boy's stomach and chest as he brought his hand up and out of the way, smiling to the Gryffindor affectionately. He then started to move, laying Harry down on his back on the rug that appeared on the ground to make it warmer, so that he could get on top of Potter or move in front of him... The mysterious force was blocking him again, demanding to be brought out and fighting him.

Riddle paused in his efforts, as if contemplating something. The colors in his eyes swirled and his hands twitched. The calm look on his face took on one more of someone being annoyed by a pet disobeying them, red eyes turning now onto the boy in front of him on the ground. He moved to crawl over him, leaning down to lap up the white fluid on Harry's chest, nearly growling as he did so.

No. This was his dream. All his. That other 'Tom' would stay out of it. He was being very possessive of it and wished to claim it, to show what his territory was and for the other to keep his nose out.

As he was pushed onto the ground, Harry had expected to feel the stiff wooden boards under his back and not a much more comfortable rug. He was still a little sluggish from orgasming, so he had allowed himself to be smeared without complaining though it did make him blush. He had been watching Tom curiously from the floor, did... Did his eyes just change color...? No it must have been the firelight… But that didn’t explain the complete change in expression and movement though.

His heart jolted and he stopped looking directly at him, afraid he might set off another attack. Why did Tom look so mad at him now? He had made Harry make this mess—Had smeared it on him. Being so close to him positioned like this did not ease his nerves either, but it did make that tension start to build again—Even before the licking began. Harry arched his back every now and then as the tongue lapped at him, twisting his fingers into the carpet beneath them.

The Slytherin possessively licked up along the other boy's heated skin, careful not to miss any of the sticky fluid as his skin explored every inch of the soiled skin before him until it was clean once more, shinning with his saliva in the low firelight. He then leaned back up, sitting up, and peered down to Harry with a lusty and demanding look.

"Prep yourself." He put, not going to repeat himself as he waited on Potter to do so, not taking his red eyes off of him. He wasn't going to belittle himself so much as to put his fingers inside the Gryffindor, no. He'd make him do it himself. And then any harm that came to him after that was merely from his own unsatisfactory prepping, not him. Besides, he longed to watch the boy do such a thing for his eyes only, under his command. The idea to him spurred him on more, his curious red eyes never leaving Harry for a moment now.

At first, he wasn’t quite sure that he had heard correctly. Harry sat up slightly on his elbows, confused. Surely Tom didn’t mean... He looked reproachfully up at him, but the older boy just looked at him. He sat up completely now a little afraid, he had not expected this to happen.

Harry had never... Never done that to himself before. Shaking a little he considered his options, he could not do it and face having to use blood for lube again, or he could do it himself and it would be easier on him. The way they were now, even if he tried to get away he'd be back on rug and repeat their first time again.

He looked around the room, trying to find a place to hide to do it, but there was no place except outside this room. Harry knew by the way Tom was watching him that asking him not to watch would just get cruel teasing. Shaking slightly, he removed what little clothing he had left at his waist. He tried to recall how it had been done to him but there was no use to it, he forgot everything after a few movements inside. Harry did not look at Tom during any of this, pretending he was alone.

Gingerly, Harry stuck his fingers into his mouth sucking on them until he guessed they were wet enough to enter easily. He shook still more as he reached under himself, finding where it needed to go. He hesitated for a while until tentatively trying to slip his index finger inside but all that happened was he squeaked and his hips jerked up. Harry did not want to do this, but if he didn’t it would hurt very badly because Tom was not going to help him. He tried again, trying to relax more this time. One finger went inside, though it didn’t feel nice like when someone else did it, just weird. But he shuddered and stayed still, very aware of the eyes watching his every move.

He tried to play with himself back there a little, but Harry was inexperienced and very upset so it didn’t work out well. He decided that he probably did need more than the one finger inside though, or nothing would fit properly.

He raised his hips up again and eased the second finger inside. He shook trying to get used to the feeling, nervously trying to scissor himself open. It hurt at first, he wasn’t very good at it, but in what he thought was a spur of brilliance, Harry tried to move his fingers and hips in time to each other. It wasn’t the best feeling in the world, but it did make him feel a little bit more at ease. Harry cried out weakly as he tried to calm down and get ready for his partner—Who he was still not looking at as he began to get a little into the sensation he was feeling.

Voldemort watched the other boy, a bit annoyed by how long he seemed to be taking or how hesitant he was. His first thought that came to mind was to beat the boy or 'train' him more. However, that other force that had been fighting him earlier urged something different. Tom's face lightened up a bit, amused by the thought and pondering whether to actually follow through with it or not.

Perhaps he could try and edge the boy on a little... That's it, a bit of a more gentle hand for his precious doll? As much as he'd like him trained, it was also in Tom's mind that all things he believed he possessed should be perfect and brilliant. And Potter was very much on this list of what he considered to be his property. Especially in his dreams.

"Yes, just like that, my Harry~" He purred, leaning forward to take his eyes off of the little show going on downstairs so that he may lay a soft kiss on those crying lips. His hands moved to squeeze the Gryffindor's thighs gently, an amused or happy look on his face. With those kind of begs coming from Harry, how could he stay angry? Well, easily. But that wasn't the point. It just put him in a much better mood to see Potter cooperating with him or trembling so, especially from any pleasure he got because of Riddle's influence. "Why are you so shy~ Don't you love me?" He breathed against the boy's lips, distracting him with more affectionate kisses against his mewls.

Harry opened his eyes when he was kissed the first time, the bright green contrasting heavily with the redness of his skin. His stomach gave a lurch, he was doing okay...? He sighed a little, relief washing over him making him less tense. The hands on his thighs made him cry out and shudder getting him out of the little rhythm he had set up.

"--But I haven’t done this before..." He said breathlessly, trying to make sure he was open enough, his voice pitiful and pleading. "A--Ah, I do l-love you that’s why... Ngh... That’s why I want to do this..." He couldn’t raise his voice very much because of how he was moving. Now when he moved it wasn’t so hard to feel nice, and he felt really slippery, making it easier to move his fingers more.

"Oh, that's excellent~" He mumbled back to the boy, smiling against his lips. Yes, it was these sorts of things, that little helpless voice included, that made Voldemort even forget his anger at the old name Harry longed to call him by. His little doll was playing along so well... He'd have to reward him. Reaching down, Riddle began to touch and stroke the Gryffindor's member delicately, his sly fingers knowing just which sensitive areas to brush along or to caress. "Such a good boy~"

"Ha...!" Harry's voice caught mid cry after feeling the hand between his legs again, it was difficult to move and enjoy this at the same time. His body shook weakly, the touches kept raising the tension inside him he doubted he would be able to do this much longer, even if he didn’t cum. He wanted to do that, he wanted to have sex right now even if he hadn’t opened himself up properly; he wanted to be pierced over and over NOW.

"We—We can do it now right...? I did it, so we can right?" His voice was pleading again and he was like some animal coming in heat. Two years he'd waited to do this properly with the right Tom, and he'd done as he had been asked to do. "Please, we can can’t we? I want to..."

A wide smile crossed Tom's features, almost a bit wickedly, as he leaned in to silence those lips and moved his hands away from Harry's body, onto his own. "Oh, yes. We certainly can~" That begging coming from his pretty little doll was almost too much. He wanted to violate this doll of his so very badly now and nothing, not even that pesky and annoying other Tom in the back of his mind trying to come out, would stop him. Of course, he'd be more lenient seeing as how Harry had been so wise as to listen to him and obey him... So there was really no need for this 'other' Tom to fuss in the least... At least, that's what Voldemort thought. He was being quite 'merciful', according to himself.

He undid his pants, soon pulling down the zipper and underwear underneath just enough so that his member would spring free, throbbing and erect from seeing Harry in such a state. He did not waste any time in moving back in between those legs, positioning himself against that beckoning heat. He didn't ask for approval—Harry was his to do as he wished, in his mind. Tom pushed forward, all the way to the hilt, while he moved to taste those sweet, begging lips more.

The approval made Harry sigh in relief; he had half expected to be asked to do something more embarrassing than what he had done. During the first kiss he lay back onto the floor, because as aroused as he was he was A.) still wary of positions other than this one to choose on his own and B.) still wary of Tom. At least on the ground he had something against his back to keep him from falling over should things get rough. And, sure enough, the second Harry was on the ground was the same second he was on top of him. The only warning he got about what was going to happen was the heat pressing for a moment against his entrance, but it wasn’t even enough time to tense up against until he was plowed into.

It did not hurt as badly as the first time by a long shot; there was no blood or feeling of being torn apart. It was enough to make him yell a little—Or he would have had Tom not caught his mouth again. It was hard for him to tell if the kiss was to tease him about not being able to make any noise or trying to ease him into the sensation. Either way his mouth was ruled for a good amount of time before Harry got loose—And by the time he did he didn’t need to yell anymore his eyes were still stinging from the pain though.

"Ha... You d-did that on purpose..." He whimpered after wiping his lips to remove the excess saliva the kiss had left on his mouth.

"Perhaps~ But you were begging, my sweet."

The dark-haired boy smiled to the younger one underneath him, quite amused. He leaned down to lap up those little tears that formed a bit from the pain, not being patient enough to wait too long before pulling out to the tip and pressing back into the boy underneath him. As said before... Harry was his doll and he could do whatever he wanted with him. If he managed to make the boy love what he was doing, that was a bonus. However, Tom in the meantime only declared Potter as his own little plaything regardless.

He wasted no more time in doing just that and beginning to form a pace up. He was actually being more lenient for once and showing a bit of mercy... Perhaps it was that other 'Tom' that kept prodding at him and trying to move him to act such a way. But soon enough even that didn't satisfy him and he began to move faster, clutching onto the Gryffindor's hips as he began to pant and bite back moans at feeling that tight heat and seeing that hot, begging body underneath.

Being spoken to so gently helped him calm down and so did having his tears licked away. When he had been pulled out of, Harry had been afraid that he had upset him again--A worry that was quickly nulled with the act of being entered again. He had gotten to cry out a bit then, but he had quickly felt the light shiver of arousal hit him as well and the noise had become strangled with lust. It did hurt him, but it didn’t just do that anymore did it? Two years wasn’t that long, but it was enough to allow Harry's body to become more attuned to this act. What might have only hurt, or given him dull pleasure at twelve had evolved a little into a rather confused arousal. He would later suppose that, thanks to being exposed to this kind of ‘love’ at so young would have given him a little bit of a taste for it. Harry was still sure he preferred being gentle though. Mostly.

The pace that Tom set for him was easy to get used to, keeping up with pretty good success. It was good, and Harry did his best to take all of him in with each thrust whispering how nice it felt to do this, gently cradling the others waist with his legs. He kept twisting and curling his fingers and toes into the carpet with every sigh and moan, head turned slightly to the side between kisses.

But just when Harry thought that he was getting off Scott-free, the pace changed again to something much rougher. His whispers and sighs became surprised mewls and gasps for air. The hands on Harry's hips forced him to move in a certain way; he didn’t get a choice in it. Not that he cared; it still made him melt on the inside but a little sore from the use.

It was because of this he had begun to grip Tom’s waist with his legs tentatively at first then tightly to keep up. Harry had become rather uninhibited, his own cries becoming quite animalistic with their mix of demand and fear for more. It was between gasps he heard Tom above him trying to not make noise, oh god, that voice made him feel harder than ever. Cautious, he opened one of his green eyes to view Tom above him—Another shot to his loins. The usually pale skin was flushed a bit, a face hungry with desire only for him, for this feeling he could offer. Closing his eye, but still picturing the face made him a little... Frisky for something he might get in trouble for later.

Rather than making noises as he had been, Harry began to do his best to moan only "Tom" now, like some sort of chant. The way he figured it they would both get off before any repercussions might occur, and it would be worth it. No matter what, when together like this he would only ever call Tom by his given name, and not the one he had given himself. If he had been a bit more shameless, he could have tacked on more slutty things to cry with the name but Harry figured he could never do that and not die from embarrassment.

Voldemort got more and more into the motions against the younger boy, finding it hard to control himself or keep quiet now even though it was a dream (It wasn't the fact that he would be heard, it was the fact that he wasn't one to show pleasure or enjoyment as easily no matter the cause) but... His thrusts started to turn a bit rougher at hearing his original name. It was just an odd sensation that caused the most lusty rage in him and he couldn't explain it. At the same time, it turned him on ferociously. This boy calling his name, his original name, was going to be the only one allowed and who dared to say such a thing to Voldemort. True, he was going to be punished severely anytime he said it, but the mere fact that no matter how much he punished him and he still continued to call him by that name... It was just something else altogether to the Slytherin and he was so attracted to it. Perhaps it was the fact that now he could break the boy down more or that he still had a rebellious pretty doll? Breaking and bending people were continuous enjoyments to someone like Riddle, even if they started to become an annoyance because they simply would not bow down to him. He'd learn sooner or later...

The dark-haired man leaned down, giving rough and frisky little bites along the boy as he called out that name, beginning to thrust more dangerously hard and fast. He was sweating and panting against that hot skin, leaving bruises now on Harry's hips. Before long he could barely contain himself, thrusting in hard as he filled the Gryffindor up deeply with his seed and bit particularly hard on his shoulder, tasting copper. He pulled back a little, licking his slightly blood-stained lips as he panted over the bit of wound he had created, lost in complete lust as the high of orgasm still fogged his mind for the moment.

The thrusting became more erratic and more painful for Harry to endure—Still, the name had worked. He heard the breathing above him become more ragged and still he only said his name. If he hadn’t been so far gone, he might have regretted egging Tom on because he was being screwed into the floor now without any consideration to how he felt. But Harry was much too into it to care at the moment, his own voice becoming cracked from overuse. He did have enough sense to keep digging into the carpet with his nails, rather than Tom's back, and he was clenching his hands so bad now he was sure that his hands would be swollen.

He turned his head farther, allowing for more room as Harry felt his lover bend over him. He sucked in air sharply at first; they were not gently kisses in the slightest but he wanted them all the same. Yes, he would deny it later but he liked the idea of being marked like this. But the thrusting inside him became harder still, reminding him of the stone chamber again. He was being torn apart again, but this time he had begged for it... And teased Tom onwards. Harry wasn’t even trying to move on his own anymore, allowing himself to be used in earnest. When Harry came, he did not stifle his own cry but yelled out loudly enough to have his voice echo throughout the empty mansion. Dully he felt Tom sink his teeth into his shoulder, felt the blood spill out but it was all secondary to how hard he was bucking and arching from hitting climax.

Weakly and more than a little sweaty, Harry became still, breathing hard, and softly whimpering. The afterglow masking how sore he was and the stinging pain in his shoulder. Gingerly, he touched the lightly bleeding wound, knowing that sharp teeth had made a perfect mark. It would not be the only swollen and sore part of him after this. He had shuddered mentally at the sight of Tom licking his blood away as if it were nothing. But the orgasm kept him from focusing on too much and he was back to gently writhing with pleasure in a moment or so.

The sight of his pretty 'doll' beneath him in such an induced state of pleasure was enough to satisfy Voldemort completely; very much so at ease now. His name having been called out faded from his mind as he moved to kiss and caress his lovely little pet. Though, it wasn't enough that he knew that Harry was his, but he now needed the boy to know that he would always be his no matter what he thought.

"You're mine, Harry~ All mine~" He purred, the heat slowly fading from them as he kept their bodies close and reveled in the pleasure still of it all. "You know you can't deny it~ So stop being so foolish as to doubt it~"

It was hard to breathe; how had he been managing to talk and breathe not so long ago? It became worse when Tom kissed him, smothering him and taking advantage of his open mouth. He tasted the iron there and whimpered knowing it was his own blood he tasted. It made him feel vaguely dirty; he should not have to taste blood when he kissed the person he loved... But he did. But again the worry was swept away, leaving blank enjoyment. He was happy that Tom was staying close and not pulling away after the main event was over.

The words in his ear at the moment pleased him, and later would be something to crush him over and over again. There was no escape, there never would be.

"I...I..." He couldn’t figure out to respond to this, confused by his own feelings of fear and adoration. Feeling the cold air creeping at his sweat covered flesh he was again happy that Tom was so close. "It's cold..." He whimpered, wishing he had managed to make it to the bed.

Voldemort was a bit lost in the kiss, not even minding the taste of blood in between them now. It was odd how he felt for the boy. Perhaps it was because he tried to fight him so much, even from his very birth, that it mirthed him all the more to try and break him down or force him to serve for only Lord Voldemort. It was just an odd, unexplainable electric that always accompanied Tom whenever he touched or got close to Potter that he only put off to this suspicion that he started to believe as fact. And, he was always the charming gentleman he made himself out to be while growing up—He just lost his temper here and there is all. No one would stand aside or obey you if you let them walk all over you. It was good to raise your hand and speak your words; this is what the Slytherin believed. That Potter should be put in his rightful place. Though, he knew he was already there. It was just the matter of the fact of getting Harry to believe so and actually do so.

And, that more gentlemanly and charming side was coming out again as he tried to move closer to the boy and keep the heat in between them. He was feeling most of the chill from the room, though he ignored it, used to the feeling after having spent countless hours here now, tending to his broken self. He still wanted to kiss and keep those little sparks going, taking those whimpering lips as he wished, though the lusty and hungry kisses were dying out in comparison to the slow and sensual ones. This was what he wanted, though he felt the dream fading a little, as if he was going to wake up. The times up until now had been more violent awakenings or more minor little juts rather than the smooth trailing off of the dream that was happening now. It was rather nice. Perhaps it was because he thought that yes, Harry was his. Or the fact that no one disturbed him in his sleep perhaps this time and Nagini wasn't playing with her food for once.

He woke up on his own, more rested and charmed by it. Perhaps this was a message that he'd finally win in the end... That Potter wouldn't be able to escape and finally just give in. He walked around that day, more cheery than normal which made Wormtail wary that he'd explode at him or something every minute of that day. He didn't even bark at him when he accidentally dropped something when it slipped from his hand. It was certainly odd that he was so bemused.

Harry relaxed as he felt himself getting warmer rather than colder this time; so it wasn’t just himself that was in a better mood. Sure that he would not be pushed away for it right now, he wrapped his arms around Tom's neck both to hold him in place and to share body heat. As the kisses became longer and the breaks apart shorter he moved one of his hands up to stroke the dark hair gently. It was during this time that Harry forgot that this person was his family's murderer, and had attempted to kill him more than once. That by doing this willingly and knowingly had corrupted him more than a little.

Things started to feel less substantial, and Harry knew what was happening now regretful. Still even as he started to wake up, they never broke apart until he was lying in his own bed in Privet Drive. Aunt Petunia yelling at him to get up didn’t even bother him, Harry for the moment could enjoy his moment of pleasure before the guilt set in. He was a bit clumsy and day dreamy that day just like he had been his second year.
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